Scott is a very, VERY complex man, but one of the lessons I learned from building complicated dioramas is that the whole thing is just a series of little models all created separately and fitted into a whole. This diorama I made of a patrol of American doughboys going through a shattered French village in late 1918 was incredibly complex. Everything in it was essentially scratch built; the figures are each less than two inches tall. The only commercial products I used were the heads, the helmets, the canteens, and the wagon.
Such a project could easily have overwhelmed me, but I mapped it all out and didn't let the huge undertaking deter me.
It's the same as writing a book. You saw the piles and piles of source material. Where do you begin? How do you decide what's valuable and what isn't?
With people, I "break them down" into their component parts, like each of the elements of the dioramas I used to build, and I also choose the "valuable" material from the giant mound of information they have to offer. There are certain aspects of peoples' personalities that I can't abide, and there are certain actions they take that I find unacceptable, in which case we can't be friends. But generally speaking, I've become more and more like Will Rogers in that I rarely meet people who don't have something about them that I can't like.
The key is understanding boundaries and limitations. We can't all be best friends. We can have a connection without it being deeply intimate and intrusive. I'm actually a very private person. What I do here and what I've done in Ghosts is a performance. It's real; I'm not faking anything. And I'm genuinely touched that my work moves people.
But I'm a performer. I'm an entertainer. So is Scott. Though I've had the great fortune of becoming a genuine friend of his, that happened in spite of my respect for his talent. When we talk, we almost never discuss music. We're going to be cooperating on his memoirs soon, but that's going to be a completely professional relationship. In effect, I'll be his employee. I always separate the artist from the art, so I'll be working with Scott Thunes, not my friend Scott.
I think it's best for everyone if we take entertainment for what it is and not worry too much about the person creating it. It's hard to do that, but I think it keeps us grounded.
And I'm glad you recognize John Taylor's unique voice on the bass. A lot of people were put off by the marketing and the band's looks, but the second I heard "Girls on Film," I was hooked. And I was a Led Zeppelin, Yes, and Gentle Giant fanatic at the time.
Put aside some time and watch this interview. I generally don't knock other interviewers, but the contrived earnestness, nodding, and weird, inappropriate, teeth-baring grins from Eric Blair are preventing him from connecting with Taylor. John is doing his best, but the interviewer is so off-putting that it's making John uncomfortable. When I spoke to him, Bass Player was a huge deal, so he was under incredible pressure. We ended up talking for two hours. It was a great conversation, because even though he was one of my idols, I didn't giggle and coo.
Also, a lot of the questions Blair is asking are inappropriately personal. It doesn't have to be that way. Instead of saying, "How do you stay monogamous?" you ask, "In an industry with so many temptations, how do rock stars keep their heads on straight?" That allows Taylor to talk about things in a theoretical sense. That frees him and lets him give a better interview.
I was always able to connect with people. As an interviewer.
